Standing In Front of You
by ThankMeWhenIt'sWednesday
Summary: She assumed they were just star-crossed. He was convinced there was a bigger picture. Either way, they always found their way back to each other. Delena, but not the one you're thinking of!
1. Part One, Chapter One: Save Me

**Author's Note: ****To make this work I'm obviously going to have to push forward the _Supernatural_ timeline, considering Dean's 26 when the series starts and Elena would have been about 11 at that time. Yikes. So where I'm starting now, he's 19 and she's 16. For the big picture, I'm pretty much following canon for both series. However I'm going to throw a bit of my own AU twist in there, so be prepared.**

**And I have to give a shout out to ZombieLoverWithWings for all the help and advice she gave me writing this chapter. Luv ya! :)**

**I always forget to put a disclaimer, so I'll do that now: I don't own The Vampire Diaries or Supernatural. I wish I did, though . . . Oh, the things I'd do. ;)**

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**-Part One-**

Chapter One

"_Don't be afraid of the dark? What, are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark! You know what's out there!"_

_-Dean Winchester_

* * *

Her lungs felt like they were about to burst, her bare feet sore from sprinting on the pavement. She had never been much of a runner, but right now she wished that she was. Breathing heavily, Elena dashed into the house and slammed the front door with all her might. It took great effort and all of her focus to bolt the locks, her hands were shaking so violently. Afraid that wouldn't be enough to keep it from getting in, she pulled the nearby extensive lamp post and placed it beneath the doorknob. As she backed away, she stumbled over a medium-sized table against the wall. She dragged that in front of the door too, as an extra safety precaution.

She tried to steady her breathing, and think rationally about what she should do next. Her body had the opposite idea. What should have been slow, deliberate breaths came out shallow whimpers, all her thoughts revolving around the fact that she was going to die.

She couldn't handle the burden of her fear any longer, and she collapsed into a fetal position under the weight of it.

Matt. What had gotten into him? Her boyfriend had been normal all night, nothing out of the ordinary. They had caught a movie downtown and then headed to the Mystic Grill for dinner afterwards – a typical Friday night.

As usual, he went overboard on the Mystic Lemonade. He proclaimed it was his only weakness – besides Elena, of course. About halfway through dinner he excused himself to go to the bathroom. Totally normal.

The second he returned, though, that's when things got weird. His mood was darker; a little more mischievous, mysterious. She tried to stay away from the idea of _malevolent_, but that word couldn't help but ease itself in. She ignored it, though.

To be quite honest, she enjoyed this Matt a little. He was cracking jokes and telling the most insane stories, a stark contrast from his usually subdued persona. He was flirting with her in that single moment more than he ever had throughout the entire course of their relationship thus far. Complimenting her on everything – her sparkling eyes, her beautiful laugh, her perfect hair. She couldn't help but feel flattered, wondering what had possibly gotten into him when he left for the bathroom. She didn't know, but she was definitely loving this random change in her boyfriend.

At first.

Elena still couldn't exactly pinpoint when the warning signals in her head finally took over, causing her to realize that something was seriously wrong. It might've been when Matt's baby blue eyes turned coal black on the ride home. That was a dead giveaway.

Elena didn't know what might've happened if they hadn't been stopped at an intersection. Her instincts took over and she threw the car door open, jumping out and running for her life. She barely suppressed a bloodcurdling scream. She would save that for when she had no hope left, no escape.

She ran like hell for Matt's house. It didn't occur until later that it would have been a better idea to run to one of the many houses on the way to Matt's. Mystic Falls was a small town and she knew pretty much everybody. It was a much smarter strategy to go to a place where she wouldn't be alone, where there were witnesses. Even if these thoughts came to her, she probably would have pushed them away anyways. No one would believe her. They'd think she was crazy.

She bolted up the Donovans' driveway, and grabbed the spare key she knew for a fact was hidden under the welcome rug.

And that's how she found herself trapped in Matt's house. Alone. In the dark. Fearing for her life.

She didn't even check to see if he was still after her. She knew he was.

She had stared into those charcoal eyes, not a shred of humanity left. A cold voice occupied Matt's, and maliciously hissed the words that shattered her world.

"_I've been looking for you, Elena," he said casually, suddenly._

_She didn't comprehend what exactly he was saying at first. "Matt, I've been with you all night."_

_His grip on the steering wheel tightened, slightly irritated. "Do you want me to say it again for you in Spanish, sweetheart?" His cool voice was dripping sarcasm and had a morbid edge to it. _

_Elena gasped, appalled at Matt's sudden aggravated nature. She was unsure of how to handle it. "Are you okay, Matt?" she asked, cautiously._

_"You foolish girl," he shook his head, giving a sardonic chuckle. He met her worried gaze as his eyes quickly shifted from Matt's clear blue to an ocean of black, like turning off a light switch. "I'm not your boyfriend, sweetie."_

The taunting words he yelled as she made a run for it rang in her ears, a derisive echo in her ears.

_"Run all you want, sweetheart, get your head start. I'll still find you. You can't hide from me."_

Elena wiped away the tears that were free falling down her face as her Gilbert stubbornness kicked in. If she was going to go out, she wasn't going out without a fight – and definitely not in a fetal position weeping like a little girl.

She tried taking deep breaths again, and this time she succeeded victoriously with ease. She slowly stood up, using the table for support.

She hesitantly began to make her way towards the kitchen, feeling her way along the wall and taking her sweet time. She thought for how much time she spent over here she'd know Matt's place like the back of her hand. It was so foreign in the dark she might as well have been stumbling through the forest a few streets over.

When she reached an opening in the wall she knew she'd reached her destination. She turned into the kitchen and searched the wall space next to the door, knowing the light switch had to be somewhere nearby.

She went back to focusing on breathing deeply as she searched, trying her best not to lose her calm. Within seconds, she found it. Elena didn't think she'd ever been so glad to see the illuminating light of Matt's kitchen before in her life.

She rushed over to the drawers by the sink, opening and closing them almost manically, desperately trying to find where they kept the dinnerware.

Knives. She grabbed the biggest one they had, holding the glinting blade up, satisfied. She could defend herself now.

The back door slammed open behind her; someone had kicked it open. Elena whipped around, knife poised in a position to defend herself.

It wasn't Matt.

"Elena?"

She held the knife up, poised and ready to defend herself. She hoped her newest adversary didn't notice how violently her hand was shaking.

The stranger held up one of his hands, signaling that he wasn't a threat to her. The gun in his other hand made her think otherwise.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said slowly. "I'm here to help, and quite possibly save your life." His green eyes bore into her brown.

Green, not black.

It relieved her, but not by much. She still didn't know this guy from a hole in the wall, and he already seemed to have some background on who she was.

"Who are you?" she asked confidently, trying her best to sound tough and threatening. She still had the knife raised, and her hand was shaking significantly less.

He smirked, cocky. As if this was the most natural thing in the world. "My name is Dean. Dean Winchester. And I'm here to kill that son of a bitch demon that's after you."

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**It would really mean a lot if you left a review. :) This had been in my head (and on my computer) for a while and I was wondering if I should just give up or keep going with this. Either way, thanks for reading!**


	2. Part One, Chapter Two: Stuck

**Hola people of FanFiction! :D I'm super duper extremely, totally and completely, 100% sorry about my rather long absence. But many thanks to those of you who reviewed, added this to their favorites and story alerts, or all three. It was really encouraging. :) I definitely promise to update more often.**

**Still don't own Supernatural or the Vampire Diaries. Otherwise we would've seen a Winchester/Salvatore Brothers Road Trip a long time ago . . . Someone should write a fanfic about that (if it hasn't been done already).**

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**Part One**

-Chapter Two-

"_I'm more like a ninja."_

_-Dean Winchester_

* * *

The air that filled Elena's confidence balloon deflated. Demon? What the hell did _that _mean?

Elena blinked rapidly, trying to process this new piece of information. She lowered the knife unconsciously, a different thought residing in the front of her mind.

"A demon," she repeated, shaking her head. "That can't be possible."

Dean motioned to the knife still clutched in her hand and gave her pointed look. "Why do I get the feeling you don't really believe that?"

Elena glanced wearily down at the knife, then back at Dean. She didn't have a response to that, and it was obvious she wasn't going to.

Dean took advantage of this moment to ease the door shut then toss his bulky black bag on the ground. He crouched down and unzipped the bag, searching around for an unknown object. When he didn't find it, he swore.

"You got any rock salt around here?"

Elena stared at him incredulously. "Rock salt?"

"Yeah, rock salt," he repeated slowly, looking at her as if _she_ was the crazy one. "I need it to block all the entrances. . . It keeps the demons out," he explained, catching Elena's quizzical look. Dean stood up and began searching around the kitchen for the necessary condiment. "It's like that douchebag bouncer that only lets hot chicks into clubs. Humans can just skip on over the salt barrier while demons are left waiting in line outside. You follow?"

"Um, yeah. I guess." _No. _

"Yahtzee," Elena heard Dean mutter in satisfaction, pulling the oh-so-important salt out of a cupboard. She blatantly watched him in curiosity, wondering what in the world was going on. Demons? Seriously? It was without a doubt the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard in her entire sixteen years.

She was suddenly slapped in the face with the realization that she had no idea who this guy was. It would be the most classic form of stupid to trust him. He could be using this "demons are real and out to kill you" crap as a ploy to take advantage of her, and she was blindly buying into it. For all she knew he could be an escaped fugitive from an insane asylum . . . or jail.

Sizing up his features, Elena knew she'd be no match taking him on. Dean was broad shouldered and very tall, at least six feet. The thin black shirt that clung to his abs left very little to her imagination; the sleeves of his forest green windbreaker were rolled up his forearm, just beneath his elbow, giving her a decent teaser of his muscular arms. Along with the dark cloud of intense danger and enticing mystery that shrouded around him, she decided she definitely didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell in a fight against him. In a word, she was utterly and completely screwed. She strengthened her grip on the knife in frustration.

The knife. The exact edge she needed.

He had his back to her. He was more preoccupied with creating a barrier of salt in front of windows and doors than keeping a close eye on her. It was the perfect opportunity to strike, and she'd have the element of surprise on her side. Elena slowly raised the knife, preparing herself for what she was about to do.

The next moments were a blur, yet filled with perfect clarity. Time seemed to somehow slow and move faster at the same time. Elena lunged at Dean with the knife.

As the blade made contact with Dean's arm, Elena was painfully reminded of her lack of aim and strength. She knew the cut barely broke the skin, and would have caused very little damage, if any. She'd lost her edge.

Dean responded with speed and agility. Faster than she could at first comprehend, he had grabbed her by the wrist, twirled her around, and had her back pressed against his chest. He tightly held her left arm crushed against her stomach, while he clutched her right hand – the one still holding the knife – so that she was extending it far in front of them. His quick reflexes gave her the impression he was quite skilled in the art of self-defense. He wasn't hurting her, but she was without a doubt in a position where she was unable to break free. She squirmed a little, trying to test this theory.

"I'll give you points for effort, sweetheart," he said simply, seemingly unfazed by the wiggling girl in his arms. "Don't feel too bad, though. I think you even nicked my arm, that in itself deserves an award."

"It was worth a shot," Elena sighed, giving up on attempting to break from his grip. She was officially resigning to the fact that she was stuck, totally at his mercy.

For a fleeting moment, she wasn't sure if that was such a bad thing.

* * *

Not only did he confiscate any and every object that she could potentially use as a weapon, he tied her to a chair. The man certainly had some background in extreme knot tying, because she quite literally couldn't move a muscle. She realized he had some background in some other things, too. Scary things. She was pretty sure she saw a gun sticking out of the waistband of his jeans when he went to retrieve more rope. He hadn't pulled it out on her (yet), but it confirmed that she wasn't going to try anything risky on him again. With a dejected sigh, Elena continued to do what she'd been up to for the last ten minutes – absolutely nothing, in the hopes that someone will just wake her up from this bizarre nightmare already.

She could hear Dean pacing in the living room. From the sounds of it, he was on the phone with someone. She could've sworn she heard him say "Dad" at one point, but she wasn't one hundred percent sure. Part of her suspected schizophrenia, along with whatever other psychological problems he may have. Not that she was judging or anything. Dean was different from anyone she'd ever met in her life, and as frightened by him as she was, she was also curious as to what made him tick.

Dean strolled back into the kitchen, obvious stress etched on his face. Although Elena hadn't caught much of the phone conversation, the overall tone wasn't very uplifting. The tension that now covered Dean like blanket almost made her want to get up and hug him. Almost. She was stuck to the chair for one thing. And it'd be stupid to forget he was the one who put her there.

Dean grabbed one of the other chairs from the table and twirled it around, stradling the back of it and casually rested his arms over the top of it. He was sitting right in front of her, face to face. She noticed, not for the first time, that he exuded unfailing confidence, and she had to admit that it was pretty attractive.

But he was still crazy. Definitely.

_Newsflash: What about Matt, your boyfriend?_ Her good girlfriend vice was dutifully reminding her. _Considering he's out to kill me with his crazy black eyes, I'd say it's safe for me to admire this guy a little bit,_ she shot back.

Arguing with herself. Who's the crazy one now?

Dean reached behind him and pulled out the gun she'd seen earlier from out behind it, waving it a bit for Elena to see. He slowly set it on the table, all the while giving her a meaningful look stating that he wasn't going to do her any harm.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he stated dryly. "Believe it or not, I'm actually here to protect you."

Elena rolled her eyes. "Right, from the things that go bump in the night," she said sarcastically. The biting remark surprised her a little; she usually had a rather kind nature.

"Exactly." Dean obviously caught her tone but decided to ignore it. He yawned, rubbing a tired hand down his face. "Look, we're going to be here for a while, might as well get to know each other, right?"

Elena would've shrugged ambivalently, however the lack of the ability to move restricted the movement. She instead merely nodded her head as if she had no choice in the matter.

Dean eyes widened as he glanced absentmindedly about the room, wondering where to begin. "Well, I'm Dean-"

"I know."

"-Winchester, nineteen years old." He nodded at her. "Your turn."

"You already know my name," Elena stated, slightly confused.

Dean deadpanned, twiddling his thumbs. "Humor me."

"Elena Gilbert, sixteen." She couldn't help but smile. It was her habit when introducing herself, even to psychopaths who held her captive. "Speaking of which, how did you know who I was?"

Dean chuckled sardonically, like what she had said was some inside joke that only he understood. "Trust me, El, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

She cocked her head to the side, a bitter smile playing at her lips. "Humor me."

* * *

**And that's a wrap on chapter two! :) If it isn't too much trouble, some feedback would be lovely. I'd love to know how I'm doing so far - what you like, what you don't like, anything. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Part One, Chapter Three: Attraction

**Hey, peoples! :) Here's chapter three! Muchas, muchas, muchas gracias to everyone reading and stuff. ;)**

**Once again, I don't own either The Vampire Diaries or Supernatural. Sadly.**

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**Part One**

-Chapter Three-

_"Don't objectify me."_

_-Dean Winchester_

* * *

"You want the short version or the whole story?" Dean asked.

Elena shrugged. "However much you think I need to know."

"Okay," Dean leaned in slightly, his face serious. "If I'm going to tell this story, we're going to have to start back at chapter one. And you're going to have to go out on a limb and just believe everything I say, as ridiculous as it sounds. Deal?"

Elena nodded her agreement. "Deal."

Dean rubbed a tired hand down his face, contemplating where to begin. "I'm what's called a hunter," he said finally. "Me, my dad, and my little brother Sam, we consider it our job to save people from all the monsters out there. Ghosts, evil spirits-"

"-demons," Elena added.

"Yeah, demons," Dean repeated. "We're responsible for killing all those sons of bitches." Dean paused briefly, redirecting his change of thought. "We were in Richmond a couple days ago, helping some unlucky family yank a ghost in their attic-"

Elena chuckled, raising her eyebrows. "It's going to be kind of hard to believe you when you use clichés like 'ghosts in the attic.'"

"I saw where they keep the duct tape, kid. Don't make me have to use it."

Elena narrowed her eyes at the use of the term "kid." She went to make a show of pretending to zip her lips when she realized her hands were still inconveniently tied to her sides.

Dean's eyes took on a slight faraway look, as he started pulling details out of his memory. "It was the first hunt we did without Sammy in a long time," Dean began. "My brother is the biggest nerd in the universe, and he didn't want to miss _school,_" Dean's tone was riddled with disgust, and he shook his head in disbelief. "So he stayed behind in Leesburg."

Elena's eyes widened in a mix of shock and concern. "Wait, you just left Sam by himself? How old is he?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't get your panties in a twist. Sam can take care of himself."

"But-"

"He's a hunter, Elena," Dean said as if that should answer any and all of her questions. "If he's fifteen and can't defend himself, we've done a sorry job of training that kid."

Elena sighed and bit her lip. "This is a dangerous business you're involved in, isn't it?" _What? Where the hell did _that_ come from? There's no way you're buying into this bull. No. Freaking. Way._ Her voice of reason was standing on his soapbox again, proclaiming the insanity of this situation. She was starting to get mentally and emotionally tired and wished he would just shut up.

Dean nodded and looked at her, _really _looked, as if he were just now seeing her for the first time. His gaze started with her eyes; he bore into them for a while before making his way down her face. Her slender nose, her rosy cheeks . . . her mouth. For a moment she wondered if he was going to lean in and kiss her. They were sitting close enough. His eyes flickered back up to hers and back down to her lips again. His gaze continued downward as he continued to take her in. All of her. She knew what he was thinking. He was a member of the male persuasion, and his mind was only on one thing.

And it definitely wasn't hunting.

Usually this kind of blatant eye sex would piss Elena off. She was a person, not an object. And whatever douche bag was under the impression that she worked otherwise was in for a rude awakening. But Dean . . . He was an exception. There was something more in his eyes than just lust. She knew it was definitely the dominant force, but it wasn't alone. There was something else there too that she couldn't quite put her finger on. She liked it, whatever it was. All of it. The way his eyes were devouring her, she felt . . . more mature. Less like a girl, more like a woman.

Nothing she'd ever felt with Matt, that's for sure.

His eyes slowly made their way back up, and his eyes locked with hers. He leaned in slowly, his green eyes never leaving her brown. She knew without words that he was asking her permission and she could stop him anytime she wanted.

She wasn't going to.

His nose brushed against hers. She closed her eyes. His lips lightly grazed hers, teasing her. When she finally thought she wouldn't be able to wait any longer without combusting . . .

. . . the shrill ring of the telephone shattered the mood. Her eyes flew open and neither of them moved for a moment. When the loud ring came again, Dean pulled away, swearing up a storm of expeletives. He stood up angrily, moving towards the source of their interruption.

"Dean, wait! You can't answer it! Neither of us live here."

"Well, what do you want me to do?" he pointed at the gun. "Shoot it?"

Elena bit her lip, at a loss for what to do.

Dean gestured at the house in general. "You're close with these people, right? They're like family?"

"Yeah," Elena nodded, the realization crashing down that she almost cheated on Matt.

Dean rushed over to her chair and grabbed it by the back. He tipped her back a little. She would have clung on for dear life if she wasn't already tied to it.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed as he dragged her backwards.

"The phone isn't cordless. And since I can't bring it to you, I'm bringing you to it," he explained, pulling her to a stop. He pulled it off the hook and placed it next to her ear.

"Answer it," he whispered. As if he'd given her a choice.

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**So that's capitulo tres! :) Sorry it's kinda short. And the abrupt ending :P **

**I meant to mention this on the last chapter but forgot, but if anyone wants to come up with the image cover thing for this story (or any of my stories) I'd be more than happy to use it. I don't like using my profile pic but I'm too lazy (and untalented) to come up with something. I'd give you credit and everything! :)**


	4. Part One, Chapter Four: Hopeless

**Hiya papayas! I'm not sure if I can say thank you enough to the people who review. It's really nice to getting some positive feedback and to know that you guys are really enjoying this story. By all means, keep it up haha ;) And also a second thanks to those that story alert and favorite and all that stuff because that seriously makes my day too. Sometimes, it's a little surprising because I didn't think Delena 2.0 would be a pairing that draws in as many people as it has.**

**Or should I call them Wilbert? Ginchester? Elean? I don't know. A definite couple name isn't exactly necessary, it's just that Delena is already taken and it's just . . . weird. Maybe there's a reason most people just stick with "Dean/Elena."**

**Whatever. No biggie. Either way, Dean is probably cringing in purgatory right now at the thought of some pathetic teenage girl trying to figure out a pairing name for him and another teenage girl, who happens to be caught in a love triangle with two vampires . . . y'know, if he isn't busy getting his ass kicked by all the monsters he's already sent there . . . Awkward. -_-**

**I don't know why I'm boring you all with this (if you're actually reading it). I think my lack of sleep is finally catching up with me . . . Anyways, on with the story! **

**I don't own either shows – Supernatural or The Vampire Diaries. But a girl can dream, right? And the quote came from the season 5 Supernatural episode "The End." Just in case you were wondering.**

* * *

**Part One**

-Chapter Four-

"_And now I'm powerless, I'm hapless, I'm hopeless . . ."_

_-Future Hippie Castiel_

* * *

"Um, hello?" Elena asked tentatively into the phone, her curious eyes on Dean's steady ones. The heat of their intimate moment had been broken, and he was back in hunter mode. She felt awkward and overly co-dependent with Dean holding the phone to her ear, so she cocked her head to the side, getting a grip on the phone between her head and shoulder.

The voice on the other end chuckled. "Elena," it sighed her name, amused. "You've been quite naughty, haven't you?"

Elena's insides froze and turned to ice. She could tell by the tone that it was without a doubt the demon. The voice had the same menace to it, the same undeniable sense of uncontainable evil.

The only difference from earlier was that it now acquired her dad's voice.

Elena sunk into a state of shock. This turn of events rendered her speechless. The silence on her part was filled with the demon's gloating utterance.

"You caught me off guard back there, sweetheart. Jumping out of the car like that. Fiesty little thing, you are."

Dean knelt in front of her. His face filled her vision, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. The air of tenderness was gone, replaced by a look of stone stating that he meant business.

He motioned at the phone with his chin. "Who is it?" he mouthed.

She wasn't sure what gave it away. Probably the overt fear in her eyes. The anger. Her quivering chin and watering eyes.

"It's in my dad," Elena informed him, holding back a sob. Elena saw a fresh fire start in Dean's eyes. The hand he had resting on her knee clenched.

The voice on the other end – her dad's voice – chuckled. "Ah, let me guess, you've got the other Winchester with you. Pass him the phone, I'd like a word with him."

Elena could barely find it within her to speak; voice was barely above a whisper. "He wants to talk to you."

Removing the phone from Elena's shoulder, Dean held it up to his ear.

"What do you want, you black-eyed dick?" Dean growled, his face hard as stone. He stood up from his previous kneeling position.

The demon clicked its tongue on the other end. "Now, Dean, is that any way to speak to your elders?"

"Please, spare me the small talk," Dean quipped, narrowing his eyes.

"As you probably know by now, I'm in the girl's house. Making myself comfy inside her daddy's meatsuit. Here's the catch – if you don't get her valuable ass down here in the next half hour, I'll slowly kill Mommy-" Dean flinched at a woman's tortured scream coming through the phone. The tears filling the brim of Elena's eyes finally spilled over, hearing the wails of her mother from where she was sitting. "-and then it's little Jeremy." Jeremy's agonized yell followed. Dean shut his eyes, as if the pleas of this boy he'd never met were causing him physical pain.

"Rot in hell."

"Tick-tock, tick-tock," the demon mocked derisively before hanging up.

Shaking his head, Dean put the phone back on its dock on the wall. He stood there frozen for a second, his hand still resting against the phone. With a sigh, he reached into his back pocket and dug out his cell phone. He punched in the number he knew by heart.

By the fourth ring there was still no answer. "Come on, come on," he muttered. The phone rang a few more times.

"_This is the phone of John Winch-"_

"Dammit!" Dean grunted, hanging up and redialing. With angst he began to slowly pace the kitchen, too anxious to stand still.

His outburst pulled Elena out of the emotionless state that had set in when she heard her mother's screams. She sniffed, her brows furrowing. "Who are you calling?"

"My dad . . . If he ever picks up his damn phone!" Dean vented in frustration. Elena nodded and went quiet again. When he didn't answer a second time, Dean muttered out an impressive list of expletives. Dean decided upon one last effort.

Luckily, it worked.

"Dad?"

"Dean," John wasted no time cutting to the chase. "Please tell me you found Elena. I need some good news tonight."

Dean waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. I'm with her right now," he turned his back on her, not wanting her to overhear his next words. Even though it was nothing she didn't already know. "Dad, did you lose track of the demon?"

"Don't worry, son. I'm on his tail," John said with fierce determination.

"So you're at la casa de Gilbert?"

"What? No. Why?"

"Because the demon just made us a freaking phone call," Dean hissed. "He's using her dad as his shiny new meatsuit and we have to drop Elena off in the next half hour or her family dies."

John went quiet, a moment of deliberation. After a beat, he started spitting out commands for Dean to follow. When he finished, Dean mechanically responded with the accepted answer of "Yes, sir" before hanging up.

Dean immediately went over to Elena and began to untie the ropes that had held her against the chair. She almost didn't acknowledge him, continuing to stare blankly ahead at the wall as she'd been doing since she first heard her mother's terrorized cry. It was bloodcurdling, heart-wrenching. Hearing her mother in pain made her wanted to scream, too. To cry. Throw something.

Once she was free, she began stretching out her arms after being frozen in the same position for so long. Rotating her torso from side to side, she looked to Dean curiously. She debated asking him what brought on the change of heart, but decided on a quiet "Thank you."

Dean shook his head. "Don't thank me yet, sugar." He smirked, a slight attempt to ease her tension. It wasn't very effective. Elena just bit her lip and ran a hand through her dark hair.

"They'll be okay, right?" she asked, making eye contact with Dean for the first time since handing him the phone. "You won't let him kill them."

He took one of her hands in both of his. "I promise, you're family will be safe. When we're done with him, no demon will think of ever messing with you again. I'll even exorcise the son of a bitch myself." Dean vowed in total seriousness, tossing in his signature wink and smug smirk onto the last sentence.

Tears filling her eyes again, Elena threw her arms around him in an all-encompassing hug. "Thank you so, so much," she murmured into his chest. "I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

At first not knowing what to do with the emotional teenage girl wrapped around him, Dean awkwardly returned the hug and patted her on the back a few times. Not for the first time that day, he missed Sam's company. He was the "people person" of the two. Sympathy and understanding others and all that crap.

Smooth words, however, were Dean's strong point.

"It's my job, El. You don't have to repay me." _Except maybe in sexual favors, _he tacked on mentally. He then chided himself, remembering that she wasn't legal yet. "You're probably not that kind of girl, anyways," he muttered to himself.

Elena looked up at him curiously. "What?"

"What? I didn't say anything," Dean lied smoothly.

"Um . . . okay," Elena said disbelievingly. Letting it go, she leaned her head back against Dean's chest. She tried sniffing back a few tears before giving up and letting them fall freely. Unsure of how to handle this situation, Dean rubbed a soothing hand up and down her back. He briefly made an attempt at whispering calming words but it only seemed to make things worse; after a few minutes he just resigned himself to silence.

Neither were aware of time passing until they heard the chime of the doorbell ringing sometime later.

* * *

**Quite honestly, not my favorite chapter. Oh well, I hope you guys still liked it though ;) Feedback would really mean a lot!**


	5. Part One, Chapter Five: Walls

**Hi . . .**

**So my absence has been rather . . . long, but this chapter is like three times as long as normal. Truce? ;)**

**And this chapter is dedicated to kyella0203, ISeekYouOut, JJWolf, and an unnamed Guest for reviewing the last chapter! And MrsNormanReedus who put up with all my whining and complaining about this chapter. You rock, chica! :)**

**If I owned either of these shows, the new seasons would've started at least two weeks ago :3**

* * *

**Part One**

-Chapter Five-

"_Nobody's dying tonight. Not us, not that family, nobody. Except that demon. That evil son of a bitch ain't getting any older than tonight, understand me?"_

_-Dean_

* * *

Then (Three Days Ago):

Dean grew up a hunter. The lifestyle was something he knew like the back of his hand – sleazy motels, crappy diner food, and literally living out of his suitcase. He'd dealt with more monsters under the bed and ghosts in the attic than most people even knew to be afraid of. There were only four things in his life he felt any sort of attachment to – the quaint pendant from Sam that never left his neck, his father's black Chevy Impala, and the two people that made up his small, dysfunctional family.

Although a third of that dysfunction was on a leave of absence.

Sam had opted out of hunting for a while – something about "the importance of education" and "being a shoe-in for the science fair." The fifteen year old was waving his nerd flag high and proud, and it pushed John's easily irritated buttons. This so-called practical decision by Sam paved the way for yet _another_ major blowup between him and John, once again leaving Dean to diffuse both ticking time bombs and struggling to repair their perpetually broken pieces.

Reprimanding himself for losing focus, Dean shook out the thought – and the headache-inducing annoyance that came with it – and forced his mind back to the rather important task at hand. He was well aware that if his dad caught wind that his mind was wandering on the job, he would have Dean's ass on a silver platter. He'd been down _that_ particular road before, and it was a trip he'd rather not endure again.

He put extra attention on covering not only his own father's flank but his own, also. He tried to ignore the fact that Sam deciding to sit this case out was throwing off his ability to think clearly, to do his job to the absolute best of his ability. He was so accustomed to his younger brother's constant presence that he couldn't help but feel like he was missing something.

And then he quite literally did miss something.

"Did you see that?" John flashed his flashlight around the dark living room of the abandoned house they were investigating.

_Crap._ "See what?" Dean scanned the room, ready for the worst case scenario. John cast his son an irritated glance over his shoulder, and both men searched the room with their flashlights. Dean and John inspected opposite sides of the room. John was at the wall, while Dean surveyed the area by the window. Dean stood in the only naturally lit area of the room. Moonlight shining on his face, he took in the view.

A cemetery. Figures.

"Dean, come look at this," John commanded. Dean made his way over to his father and stood next to him.

Dean squinted his eyes at what he saw – slightly confused, mostly disturbed. "What the hell?" he muttered, taking in the sight before him.

Standing in front of the two was a shrine of sorts. The wall was covered with several pictures, most of them taken from a distance. Some looked like personal photos. _Probably stolen,_ Dean assumed. Looking over them, he realized they all had the same person as the focus – a teenage girl. The brunette with brown eyes was apparently a cheerleader, and the consensus seemed to be that her name was Elena Gilbert. There were pictures of her house, her school, her family, her friends; there were names and descriptions of everything and everyone. There were things he didn't understand – something about a "PetrovaDoppelganger," and various pictures of the girl starting around the 1930's up until now. She didn't age. Dean felt a chill down his spine as he saw that some of the more recent pictures had markings on them. Markings in blood.

The hair on the back of Dean's neck stood up. Something was wrong here. Really wrong.

"Dean-" John was hurled across the room by an invisible force. He was pinned to the wall, feet about a foot off the ground.

"Dad!" His instincts kicked in and he held his gun pointed at the door. He could make out the form of a being in the shadows. Human by the looks of it, or so he hoped.

Before he even had the chance to shoot, he was being flown threw the air and landed with a thud next to his father. He could have sworn that he heard all of the air rush out of his body in a single _whoosh. _His vision went dark for a couple seconds and returned with a slight dizziness. Forcing the pain in his head to subside, Dean began to struggle against the invisible bonds that bound him. After trying to twist and turn his way out to no avail, he gave up. He resigned to the fact that he too was, for all intents and purposes, super-glued to the wall.

Great. Just great.

"Son of a bitch," Dean moaned, breathless.

The figure emerged from the darkness. A boy in his late teens took his time approaching the two Winchesters; his casual stroll was disconcerting. There was a pleased scowl spread across his face as he inspected their confined state. Sizing up the two men, he flashed a smirk laced with malice.

"Well, well, well," the boy purred, his brown eyes shifting into complete black. "What do we have here?"

* * *

Now:

After peeking through the peephole, Dean swelled relief at the sight of his father. He opened the door and stood face to face with John . . . and some blonde kid.

An unconscious blonde kid, at that.

Without saying anything, Dean immediately moved to the side and held the door open. John – his arm around the teen's waist, and his arm lazily around John's neck – managed to ease not only himself, but the dead-weight he was supporting over Dean's salt barrier without altering it. _Impressive._

"Living room's to the right," Dean stated as John went by. As soon as both males were safely in the house, he closed the door behind them. He leaned his head against the door, taking a moment to breathe.

"Matt?" he heard Elena cry. "Oh my gosh, is he okay?" There was the shuffle of her crossing from the kitchen to the living room. Dean pushed himself off the door and followed after everyone else.

He was met by the sight of the kid – Matt – lying down on the couch, with John standing over him and Elena kneeling by his side. She clung to her boyfriend's hand like he was her life line.

Dean chewed the inside of his cheek. In a way, he was. And that was how it should be.

Elena helplessly looked back and forth between John and Dean, praying they wouldn't say the thing she that would undoubtedly shatter her into pieces. "He's not . . . he's not –"

Dean shook his head reassuringly, while John rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Dead? No. Just knocked out."

Elena nodded, running a stressed hand through her hair. "He's going to be okay, right? Nothing . . . permanent?" This time she looked solely at Dean for her answer.

"Elena, he's going to be fine," his solemn look morphed into a smirk. "Your boy toy will be good as new."

Elena shook her head at his saucy remark. Her face remained serious, but her tone hinted at a slight playfulness. "You just think you're so cute, don't you?"

"I think I'm adorable," Dean flashed a cheeky smile, and then directed his attention at his father. "Hey, Dad? Could I speak to you over here for a second?"

John nodded and began to make his way over to his son. Elena went back to devoting her full attention to Matt, her face loving and concerned. Dean watched them in silence, his easy grin slowly slipping from his face.

"Dean," John motioned towards the kitchen, forcing Dean out of his pool of thoughtless emotions. John continued into the kitchen without a glance behind him, assuming his diligent little soldier would follow after him.

* * *

Then:

"Saw your shrine over there, buddy," Dean gasped out; the wince that accompanied his remark made his obvious labored breathing all the more obvious. "Teenage girls? Robbing the cradle a bit, don'tcha think?"

"I think you need to _shut the hell up,_" the demon glared, and an excruciating pain spread throughout Dean's already worn-out body. The sound of Dean's pained groans returned the pleased grin to the demon's face.

"I will kill you with my bare hands for messing with my son," John hissed through clenched teeth, pure hatred radiating from him.

The demon blinked and turned his gaze to John. Dean's pain cut off sharply and so did his moans, leaving him breathing as if he had just sprinted three miles.

"So protective," the demon cooed sarcastically. "Although, you couldn't save your precious wife. What makes you think you can poor, little Deanie over here?"

Just as suddenly as it stopped, the unbearable agony returned to Dean – stronger than before. It felt like a thousand knives were repeatedly slicing through his insides. The burning sensation was the center of his every thought. This time, he was unable to hold back a tortured howl as his mouth was flooded with his own blood.

Dean's outcries plucked at John's soul, and he felt each one as if they were his own.

"_Stop it! Dammit! Stop it, right now!_" John yelled over the cries of his son. A mix of threats, curses, and flat-out begging flew out of his mouth as the demon cackled in delight.

* * *

Now:

"Dad, what are we going to do?" Dean badgered. He checked his watch, even though he already knew what time it was. "If we don't hand-deliver Elena in the next twenty minutes her family is going to die."

John looked at his son grimly. "We're not letting that happen."

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

John pulled a caramel-colored leather book from the inside of his black jacket. His journal.

He tossed it down on the table and began flipping through it, searching for a specific page.

Dean looked curiously from the book to John. "Dad? Dad, what are you looking for?"

In typical John Winchester fashion, he didn't answer Dean's question. Not until he found what he was looking for. It was something he appreciated about Dean. Unlike Sam, he didn't push him for answers.

About half a minute later, John turned the book so it faced Dean and pushed it towards his son. His finger hovered over a certain selection of Latin words.

Dean looked up incredulously at his father. "An exorcism? We're going to exorcize this thing?"

John shrugged. "That's the plan."

"You're joking, right?" Dean stared at John for a second before shaking his head and muttering to himself. "Of course not, you never joke about anything."

"You wanna repeat that?" John cocked his head at his son, daring him to repeat the sarcastic phrase.

Dean looked down at the book again, ashamed. "No, sir." A beat of silence passed between them before Dean spoke up again.

"So that's it? We're just going to bust in with some weird exorcism chant and hope for the best?" Dean raised his eyebrows, questioning. "I mean, I don't even speak Latin. Much less read it."

John rolled his eyes, irritated. "No one speaks Latin, Dean. It's a dead language."

Digesting that particular piece of information, Dean opened and closed his mouth in search of a witty response. When he didn't find one he crossed his arms over his chest and shifted uncomfortably, shutting his mouth for good.

Amused, John continued. "In answer to your question – no, there's more to it than that. You should know better . . . But, it's not exactly foolproof." John pointed to a symbol – a star entrapped in a circle – right above the exorcism in the book. A demon's trap.

Dean understood the problem immediately. It was highly unlikely that the Gilberts' already had a trap set up in their house, or anywhere around it for that matter. They were going to have to discreetly set the trap somewhere nearby and lure the demon out to it, then proceeding to perform the exorcism.

Easier said than done.

"What about Elena?" Dean glanced back towards the living room, where Elena remained by Matt's side.

"She'll be safest here," John shrugged, with a cursory glance around the room. "It looks like you have a salt barrier around any possible entrance into this place. Let's just add a few more traps and this house should be demon-proof."

"Let's get to it then."

* * *

Then:

Dean's eyes slowly forced their way open, and for a moment he was stabbed by a sudden stroke of fear. Memories flooded back, and his disorientation slipped away as his pace began to slow.

He was still in the house, and still stuck to the wall.

Crap.

Dean had no idea how much time had passed, and couldn't really tell if he wanted to. It was rather low on the totem pole of priorities. He was sure he passed out from the agony at some point, or so he assumed due to the clammy feeling that coated him like an itchy blanket. All he knew for certain was that he was awake now and every inch of him ached.

Still attached to the wall, Dean slowly lifted his head. The first sight he came across was the demon, sitting casually and comfortably in a green chair. The lamp on the table had been switched on, and it sat there intently reading a book – _Our Town._

Dean raised an eyebrow. _Seriously?_

The demon spoke suddenly without looking up from the book, catching Dean off guard. "Nice of you to join us, kiddo."

John – still seething, had long ago given up on actively trying to figure out a way out of this mess – snapped his head up at the sound of his eldest son being addressed. Relief flooded through him at the sight of a conscious Dean. Being unable to move, he wasn't able to measure the state of his tortured son. The only thing that confirmed any sign of life was the faint rising and lowering of Dean's chest, and even that was barely there.

"'Morning to you too, princess," Dean groaned. He grimaced at the metallic taste left by the blood. He did a check-up on his father. There were a few cuts and bruises on his face, but all in all the physical damage wasn't too bad. Emotionally, he looked like hell.

Dean didn't even want to begin imagining what he looked like.

The grayish-blue light streaming in through the window told him that daylight was just on the horizon. It was probably around five o'clock in the morning. Maybe six. Doing the math, he recalled that they arrived at the house around two-thirty . . . He'd been out longer than he'd initially thought.

"Hey, are you gonna play human Barbies with us much longer, or do you plan on letting us go anytime soon?" Dean quipped.

The demon sighed tiredly, still not looking up from the book. "I'm waiting on orders."

"And let me guess, you don't plan on telling us who exactly that is."

"Bingo," the demon pointed his skinny index finger at Dean, before letting it fall back in its lap.

Dean made a few more attempts at pushing the demon's buttons into giving him some answers, but it was pretty much futile. Donning his contemplative pout, he looked around the room again, searching for something – _anything_ – to get them out of this mess. No such luck. Their only hope now seemed to be Sammy magically appearing out of nowhere and using his annoying bitchface to force the demon back into the fiery pits of hell.

. . . in other words, they were screwed.

Dean could feel a vibration through the wall, and it rippled and rattled the house.

"What the-"

A full-fledged earthquake suddenly shook the house. Dust-coated vases and picture frames fell from equally dusty shelves, and Dean was sure he even sure he saw a few spiders tumble from their descending webs.

The demon's head snapped up, eyes returned to their ink black. Its brows furrowed, and stress lines creased its forehead.

The earthquake ended just as quickly as it started, and everyone's nerves were as rattled as the house.

The demon pushed itself up from the chair, and stormed out the door after shouting a frustrated "Stay where you are" at the eldest Winchester men.

Dean down at each of his hands – still forced against the wall – then deadpanned incredulously at the door the demon exited from.

"What the hell?"

"My thoughts exactly," John said, his tone conveying his suspicion of this particular turn of events.

The silence that followed was laced with an air of speculation and uncertainty, both men on their guard . . . and caught off their guard when they suddenly slipped to the floor. They both hit the ground with a loud _thud_ and simultaneously uttered an irritated "sonofa_bitch._"

They quickly regained a standing position – as agonizing as any sort of movement was – and decided to search the house. After investigating the place up and down and still finding nothing, they took their hunt outside.

Clear as day, literally and figuratively.

Walking on eggshells, they searched the perimeter. Nothing.

"I don't like this," Dean said slowly.

"You think I do?" John snapped. "The freaking thing just disappeared into thin air."

Even though the coast was clear, Dean couldn't relax. There was something weird going on. Weirder than his usual weird, and his calm was greatly disturbed.

He gave one last glance around the area. "You think we should just . . . go? Before it comes back."

John merely sighed, mentally and physically exhausted. "Dean-"

"Come on, Dad. We know where this thing is headed next – you saw Hannibal Lecter's scrapbook in there. We should head to . . ." Dean squinted, trying to recall the town's name. " . . . Mystic Falls. Don't you think this Elena girl is worth checking out?"

John sucked in his cheeks angrily, glaring back at the house then at Dean. "Let's go," he said finally. "It's going to be a long drive."

* * *

Now:

Elena crossed her arms stubbornly. "No, I can't let you guys risks your necks for me more than you already have."

Dean raised his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation before letting them fall back on Elena. They'd been at this stalemate for a few precious minutes now. While John finished his demon-proofing of the house, Dean had to break the news to Elena that she was staying behind. Expecting little to no opposition, he was taken aback when she began to try to argue her way in; to the point where he was a little annoyed with her.

But he'd be damned if it made her any less hot. Quite the opposite. Dean always had a thing for girls who were passionate for what they believed in. And Elena definitely fit the bill.

Even if she what she believed in was stupid.

"Too bad it's not up for discussion, sweetheart," John said, pacing back into the living room where a still unconscious Matt remained on the couch. He picked up Dean's bag from a nearby chair. "It's time to go, son."

John began to make his way towards the door while Dean flashed Elena an apologetic look. The two teenagers spoke up at the same time as Dean started to back out of the room.

"Keep an eye on loverboy-"

"Are you sure I can't come with you?"

Dean let out a short, silent laugh. "You are _not_ coming with us."

"Why not?" Elena stomped her foot as Dean turned his back on her, beginning his trek towards the door. She followed after him, frustrated. "I could help! You could use me as bait!"

That stopped Dean short. He rounded on Elena, and looked her dead in the eyes. His jaw flexed as he took a step forward, doing his signature downward point with his index finger.

"Bitch and moan all you want, but you're staying here. I can't keep a close eye on you and if anything happens, I'm not living with your blood on my hands. Play nurse to your boyfriend, watch some crappy TV – hell, do _me_ a favor and whip up some apple pie. I don't care. You're not tagging along. Understood?"

Elena stared at the ground, visibly angry – her jaw was clenched, eyes steely. She glared at the wall, then up at Dean.

"Fine. Go."

He hated the tough love approach, but in dire cases such as these it was necessary. He'd rather have her hating him alive than liking him dead. But he sensed Elena's strength, and her common sense behind all of her stupid requests and desires. She'd get over it.

Relaxing his shoulders, Dean continued on towards the door. He threw it open and paused in the doorway, knowing Elena hadn't moved an inch.

"You're welcome," Dean called over his shoulder, half-sarcastic. Before she even had the chance to respond he was out the door, slamming it behind him.

He angrily pounded his way down the driveway and into the passenger seat of the Impala, the engine already running.

John glanced over at Dean with an amused smirk, throwing the car into drive and taking off down the street.

"Everything okay in there?"

Dean avoided his eyes and his question, staring out of the windshield. "Let's just gank this bitch."


End file.
